Rosary Thread
by Buddhacide
Summary: For Shimako x Noriko lovers, a oneshot full of fluff... A reimagining of Shimako and Noriko's first meeting, set during adult life. Noriko, a wealthy Buddhist art dealer, meets the beautiful but conflicted abbess of a Japanese temple at a London university. So begins their life together, a bond that crosses faiths and continents. "Your rosary found me, so I will find you."


**Rosary Thread**

 **A Noriko x Shimako oneshot**

Synopsis: A reimagining of Shimako and Noriko's first meeting, set during adult life. Noriko, a Buddhist art dealer, meets the beautiful, conflicted abbess of a Japanese temple at a London university. So begins their life together, crossing faiths and continents. "Your rosary found me, so I will find you."

A/N: This story was partly inspired by a recent museum exhibit that featured Nestorian Christian icons, most likely used by travelling missionaries as keepsakes. The Nestorians made inroads into Asia during the Middle Ages, particularly in the Tang and Yuan dynasties in China. Their icons combine the Christian cross with Buddhist symbols like the lotus or Indian swastika. The hybrid imagery reminded me of Shimako and Noriko, and how two different religions can come together in the most serendipitous of ways. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"Thanks for the excellent talk you gave, Miss Nijou. Your passion fires up our students in a way even our staff can't manage. Little wonder you're a partner at Nijou and Company, eh? Great team you've built over there in Tokyo. Even the big two, Christie's and Sotheby's, respect and fear your portfolio of Buddhist art," came the professor's scratchy, hoarse voice. "Not that I'd be able to afford any of the kind of works you're peddling…"

The smart but simply dressed Japanese lady (whose minimal makeup consisted of a tiny bit of mascara and lipstick) smiled, turning away from the academic. Garbed in a black coat and matching skirt, she gazed out at the lightly pattering rain and the miserable autumn sky. It was lunchtime, and the students were out in force to socialize or get lunch. "Thanks for the backhanded compliment," she said, in slightly accented but excellent English. She brushed back her forehead's bold bangs. "Oh, don't look too embarrassed. That's kind of my style too."

"Well, what's important is that the sculptures your team is curating will stay on display downstairs for the next month. It's a shame you're leaving London in, what, a week? Graduation's in less than a fortnight, you'd have been able to mingle with some more of the staff and students if you hadn't made your booking so hastily."

"I'm not really that involved with SOAS, so it's fine. I was here to convince your Asian art cohort to be interested in what I love, nothing more. There are never enough conservationists of Buddhist art. I know they're not about to buy my sculptures anytime soon. They're lining up for that free Hare Krishna slop. I get it."

Nijou Noriko left the professor on his own and exited the Brunei Gallery, one of the main buildings of the School of Oriental and African Studies – SOAS for short. A college under the University of London, it wasn't as prestigious as Imperial College or UCL, but it was perhaps _the_ institution for the British study of Asia and Africa. At the height of empire, SOAS trained British diplomats, spies, and colonial administrators to be posted around the world. Now, the flow of students and staff had reversed, with people from all backgrounds in Asia, the Middle East, and Africa coming to SOAS to study and teach. Noriko was only one of many guests that SOAS welcomed – the school wasn't an imperial bastion anymore, but it still rolled out the red carpet for people of influence, wherever they were from and whatever field they specialized in.

Noriko hated this campus. It was, first of all, absolutely tiny compared to her favorite places to give guest lectures (Oxbridge, of course). It was dull and drab, sandwiched between several other colleges of the University of London, with parked bicycles lined up just outside the Gallery and Bachelors' students loitering around the courtyard – it wasn't really an oasis of quiet reflection. But just across the road from the Brunei Gallery was Russell Square, which really was very nice. Ever since Noriko had arrived in Bloomsbury to give a series of lectures on Buddhist art last week, she'd eaten lunch underneath the trees of this square, scorning the nearby café or the restaurants at Brunswick Square. She preferred sitting on the grass or on one of the benches, observing the pigeons while quietly nibbling at her sandwiches. She had a lot on her mind – selling to her international clientele was the top priority, followed closely by exhibitions and gallery collaborations. In comparison, preparing a few talks on Japanese Buddhist statues was kind of like a holiday.

She walked past the gate and took in the tall, majestic trees and greenery of Russell Square. The rain had finally stopped, and the benches were all wet. No problem: she had some tissues with her. It would be lunch as usual.

Her thoughts jumped here and there: she was to fly back to Tokyo in a few days. She needed to meet a few prospective new buyers of the sculptures she traded. Typically, the modern sculptures made for the average upper income bracket household (typically, they wanted statues for shrines or specific works for individual collectors) cost upwards of a million US dollars. It was a different story with Noriko's specialty items: old Japanese statues, pre-Meiji period, infused with heritage and history. The cheapest ones easily fetched over four million, at least. Her mind was swimming with the numbers when she stopped at her usual tree.

But someone was already sitting on the bench underneath it.

Noriko stopped in surprise as she found herself standing before a woman garbed in the night-black monastic robes of a Japanese priest. Her She was gazing pensively up at sky, as if watching something far away. Her hair (she wasn't shaved like the other Buddhist clergy Noriko had encountered before) was of a peculiar pale color, and her eyes were a curious kind of chrome. Her complexion, too: so fair, almost pallid. She didn't even look particularly Japanese. But those robes, as sumptuous as they were simple, suited her perfectly. She also wore a set of _waraji_ , sandals made from dry straw rope popular among the Buddhist clergy. Her little feet, hidden in her white socks and bound by that straw rope, peeked out from underneath her robe modestly.

She seemed so fragile and somber, yet dignified and approachable. She looked to be a bit older than Noriko – if Noriko was twenty-seven, then maybe she was twenty-eight…?

Noriko couldn't help staring at her, somewhat entranced. She was an art dealer before anything else, so she didn't know whether Japan's wealthy temple families (who passed on their religious properties and titles to each successive generation, much like England's landed gentry) had accepted women as abbots. This woman's clan evidently had. Who was she?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the gentlest and most melodious voice. It came from the priestess sitting on the bench. " _Excuse me, hello_ ," she said nervously in clumsy but understandable English. " _I'm sorry, my English isn't good_ …"

"Wait, no, don't worry," said Noriko hastily in her mother tongue, waving her hand in front of her face. "I'm Japanese, completely Japanese. You can speak _nihongo_ with me." She laughed awkwardly, scratching her cheek. "You can relax." _Wow, what on earth am I blabbering about? I must sound like a total freak_ , she thought to herself. But the nun didn't look perturbed at all. Indeed, she looked relieved. She visibly relaxed, and her hands, which were clasped together, also freed themselves, and she stood up, giving a short bow to Noriko. Noriko quickly responded in kind. "My name is Nijou Noriko." She didn't feel like it was the right time to get out her business card. Still, a bit of introductions didn't hurt. "I'm partner at Nijou and Company, an art dealership. I visit shrines and monasteries a lot. It's pretty hard to stop me from talking about Buddhist statues once you get me going."

She dealt with billionaires and millionaires on a weekly basis. Why was she so nervous around this quiet, diminutive Buddhist nun?

"I'm Shimako Toudou, abbess of Toudou-ji." Shimako raised her head, looking into Noriko's eyes. "I've just finished my Masters at SOAS."

"Toudou-ji? Isn't that the ancient temple near Mount Fuji? That's serious ecclesiastic pedigree. What have you been studying?" asked Noriko, fascinated.

Shimako's large eyes twinkled. "Buddhist studies."

"An abbess needs to study Buddhism in England?" said Noriko, puzzled.

Shimako let out a restrained giggle for the first time, and Noriko wished she hadn't stifled it. "It does sound strange, doesn't it? But a lot of monks and nuns I know did come here to do a Masters or a doctorate in Buddhist scholarship. I've known many who graduated here, so when it was my turn I just chose SOAS too. You can learn Buddhism the traditional way at our monasteries, but if you want to be qualified to teach at a university, we have to do what everyone else does."

"You said you're about to finish?" confirmed Noriko, her lunch forgotten.

"Yes," replied Shimako. "I'm staying for the graduation ceremony, and then I have to go back to Toudou-ji. Are you leaving London anytime soon?"

Noriko suddenly regretted fixing her schedule so early. She found this priestess, frankly, fascinating. "I'm sorry. I'm flying out next week already."

"That's okay," said Shimako, smiling gently. She looked up at the tall oak tree, and Noriko could sense a tinge of wistfulness as Shimako opened her mouth to speak. "I was going to continue my studies here, and earn a doctorate like some of my peers too. But I've decided to let go of that option."

"But you… you won't be able to teach at university if you're not a professor," said Noriko. "Don't you feel that's kind of a waste?"

"You're very direct," laughed Shimako suddenly, and Noriko blushed. Usually, she was unapologetic about her frankness, but the line between speaking one's mind and being careless and coarse was thin. Now, for the first time in a long time, she felt a bit ashamed for speaking so carelessly. "But you're right, too. I've treasured my year here, but…" Shimako's face seemed to hide conflicted emotions. "Doing a doctorate for another four years seemed… imprisoning. I don't want to feel more restricted than I already do."

Noriko might have been a straight talker, but she knew how to read the atmosphere. "If it helps, you can talk about it with me," she offered. "My clients always want me to be discreet and private, so I'm a good keeper of secrets."

"But this isn't a business deal, Noriko-san," said Shimako with the patience of a big sister remonstrating her younger sibling. The art entrepreneur nodded in embarrassment. Usually, Noriko was in control of the conversation, supremely confident. Today, though, she just didn't know how to communicate with this beautiful holy nun. It was like… as if her everyday assumptions about how to deal with people were basically useless.

She needed to start over with this woman.

This woman was special, unlike anyone she had met before.

It was then that Noriko noticed the rosary that Shimako was holding. She blinked twice. It wasn't a set of mala beads, as one would expect of a monk or nun. It was made of metal, not wood, and its "mother bead" wasn't a typical Buddhist symbol like a wheel of Dharma or endless knot. "Is that a crucifix?" said Noriko in disbelief, pointing at the cross hanging beside Shimako's fingers.

Shimako looked down at her Christian paraphernalia fondly. "So you noticed this Catholic rosary. Of course you would. Anyone would. I'm holding it, after all." She met Noriko's surprised eyes. "I made a free choice, and because of that choice, my temple is flourishing and our congregation is growing. We have devotees and donors lining up to pay respects to the Buddha. Toudou-ji's future couldn't be more secure under me. Yet, would you think less of me if I told you that the choice I made was one that I still regret somewhat?"

Noriko wasn't sure how to answer her. She certainly didn't know if Shimako was telling her the full story. But the Catholic rosary surely provided some kind of hint. "Who gave this to you?" she asked cautiously.

Shimako smiled again, and this time the smile was haunted by melancholy and heartache. Noriko could tell, and it felt so saddening. "Someone very important bestowed these prayer beads on me. Unlike me, she's not trapped. She's free, like the wind. While I'm inside a prison of my own making." She pursed her lips, staring deep into Noriko's eyes. "Did you know that women aren't supposed to inherit the temple seat?" she said suddenly, catching Noriko off-guard. "My father told me to consider carefully, to explore whatever I wanted. He said that my relatives could take over Toudou-ji. But my sense of responsibility…"

Noriko didn't quite get the full picture, but if the rosary was anything to go by… was Shimako some kind of closet Christian? Did she prefer Catholicism, but shut herself away in the prison of Toudou-ji for the sake of the family estate? There was so much she didn't know about her. Shimako was becoming more and more mysterious.

"It's a strange situation I find myself in," said Shimako finally, after several moments of silence. "I'm glad you enjoy the art of Buddhism. At the same time, I'm a bit jealous that you can be so completely of one mind. I will do anything for my temple and family. But when I saw those Catholic nuns of Maria-sama many years ago, in the church and at my old school… I couldn't help wanting to be part of that…"

Noriko bit her lip. It was painful to see the Buddhist priestess like this. "You did your best, I'm sure," she blurted, in half-desperation. Anything to get her new acquaintance to stop furrowing her brow and looking so heartbroken. This time it was Shimako's turn to be surprised at Noriko's words. "You're trying to tell me that Toudou-ji got in the way of… that, right?" she said, gesturing at the nun's hand. "You were living in two worlds. Maybe you still are. But I can say that I've devoted my life and career to Buddhist sculptures, so my own world is quite narrow."

Noriko beamed at Shimako, determined to comfort this small Buddhist priestess. "I admire anyone whose horizons are so broad. Keep your two worlds. From my little world of Buddhist statues, I can help you dwell in both."

Shimako gazed at Noriko in wonder, speechless.

Light rain, as it was common for London, began to patter down on Russell Square again. The pigeons had long flown away. Shimako started as she felt the water dashing against her black robes and hair. "We have to go back!" she cried, and she and Noriko, whose black coat and skirt were getting wet too, began to laugh unrestrainedly, giggling uncontrollably to each other like teen schoolgirls. Noriko rushed over to Shimako and took off her coat, exposing her thin white shirt. Shimako tried to stop her, taking gentle hold of Noriko's arm, but Noriko insisted, holding her coat above Shimako's head.

The priestess stared at Noriko, her expression betraying vulnerability as well as happiness.

"A holy woman shouldn't get wet if she can help it," said Noriko quietly.

They hurried back across the road and into the Brunei Gallery. The SOAS courtyard was emptying out now, with students retreating back into the buildings to avoid the shower. The bottom of Shimako's robes and her sandals and feet were wet, but Noriko was soaked, and the abbess looked adorably guilty. "Look at you," whispered the priestess sympathetically once they were inside, fussing over Noriko like a mother hen over her little chick. They panted as they held each other clumsily. Both were breathless. "You're going to catch a cold."

"This is nothing compared to our summer rain in Tokyo," said the breathless Noriko, running her fingers through her black hair. She felt Shimako tending carefully to her, adjusting her damp collar. The nun's dainty fingers brushed her neck, and she blushed. "I'll be fine, Shimako-san, don't worry." She paused. "Hey… Shimako-san. What am I supposed to call a Buddhist nun?"

"Call me whatever you like," replied Shimako quietly. "Thank you so much for the encouragement. I won't forget your advice. I'll continue to forge my own way. I still don't know how I feel about my curious circumstances. But having someone to share them with is liberating, to say the least." She took Noriko's hands in hers. "Thank you again, Noriko."

Noriko noticed that Shimako was also addressing her rather intimately and familiarly. She didn't mind at all – no, she wanted her to. She stared into those wise, grey eyes. They were full of warmth and steady, calm affection. Statues, temples, Catholic rosaries… none of it seemed to matter now. All she knew was the Shimako was the most attractive person she'd ever met, and she wanted more. Badly.

"Is your journey one that can be shared?" she asked shyly.

"Only just yesterday, I would probably have said no," replied Shimako, smiling. "But today is different. Today is quite different." She squeezed Noriko's hand, and Noriko returned her tender grip. "Is it outlandish to think that my life has changed today?"

Were they moving too fast, too breathlessly, as mature adults with their own lives to live? Who knew? Who cared? All they could think about as they returned to their hotel room that night was each other, and their first meeting underneath that tall tree in Russell Square.

* * *

 _How ironic_ , thought Noriko to herself, as she sneezed loudly inside the plane cabin. She blew into a tissue. So she did catch a cold after all, which was surprising, but she didn't mind. Now she was wearing a warm jacket and jeans to insulate her from the cool air conditioning. The long flight back to Japan was going to also feel like being in a prison, despite the comfort of flying business class. Shimako-san would be back in Japan a week later than her, but Noriko wanted to go to Toudou-ji earlier. She wanted to see that abbess as soon as possible again. It would be agony to wait much longer.

They had been exchanging lovestruck, devoted emails ever since they exchanged cards at SOAS. They didn't have time to meet again after that random, chance encounter at Russell Square, but as long as they kept in frequent touch, Noriko didn't mind. She had never felt so alive before. She considered herself a heavy phone user, but now she was checking her IPhone every few minutes, and her heart skipped a beat when those words appeared on the screen: _Shimako Toudou_.

Today was no different. " _Please, Noriko. You're always welcome to come by my temple_ ," read Shimako's message today. " _My door is open and waiting_."

 _I'll take you up on that offer_ , thought the art dealer eagerly to herself, leaning back into her seat. She turned her phone off as the plane began to move. She would be taking off soon. She was leaving Heathrow behind. She liked the UK and she didn't know when she'd get another chance to come back. But she had departed with something immeasurably precious. She never thought she'd care that much about this trip, but she was so glad she came. Had she not taken up the invitation to lecture at SOAS, she mightn't ever have had the chance to meet her.

Was this serendipity? It was as if her life was a bead, threaded beside Shimako's along the single string of a rosary. Lives woven together, across the borderlands of the Buddhist and Christian faiths.

"Wait for me, Shimako-san."

* * *

ROSARY THREAD

THE END


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